Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAINE.

BY ED. SPENCER.

TO THE RIGHT WORTHY AND NOBLE KNIGHT

SIR WALTER RALEIGH,

CAPTAINE OF HER MAJESTIES GUARD, LORD WARDEIN OF THE STANNERIES,
AND LIEUTENANT OF THE COUNTIE OF CORNWALL.

Sir, THAT you may see that I am not alwaies ydle as yee thinke, though not greatly well occupied, nor altogither undutifull, though not precisely officious, I make you present of this simple pastorall, unworthie of your higher conceipt for the meanesse of the stile, but agreeing with the truth in circumstance and matter. The which I humbly beseech you to accept in part of paiment of the infinite debt in which I acknowledge my selfe

bounden unto you, for your singular favours
and sundrie good turnes, shewed to me at my
late being in England, and with your good
countenance protect against the malice of
evill mouthes, which are alwaies wide open
to carpe at and misconstrue my simple inean-
ing. I pray continually for your happinesse.
From my house of Kilcolman, the 27. of
December, 1591.
Yours very humbly.

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAINE.

ED. SP.

THE shepheards boy (best knowen by that Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did name)

That after Tityrus first sung his lay,
Laies of sweet love, without rebuke or blame,
Sate (as his custome was) upon a day,
Charming his oaten pipe unto his peres,
The shepheard swaines that did about bim play:
Who all the while, with greedie list full eares,
Did stand astonisht at his curious skill,
Like hartlesse deare, dismayd with thunders,
At last, when as he piped had his fill, [sound.
He rested him: and, sitting then around,
One of those groomes (a jolly groome was he,
As ever piped on an oaten reed,
And lov'd this shepheard dearest in degree,
Hight Hobbinol;) gan thus to him areed.

Colin, my liefe, my life, how great a losse
IIad all the shepheards nation by thy lacke:
And I, poore swaine, of many, greatest crosse!
That, sith thy Muse first since thy turning
backe

Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye,
Hast made us all so blessed and so blythe.

lie:
[sythe,
The woods were heard to waile full many a
And all their birds with silence to complaine:
The fields with faded flowers did seem to
mourne,

And all their flocks from feeding to refraine:
The running waters wept for thy returne,
And all their fish with languor did lament:
But now both woods and fields and floods
revive,

Sith thou art come, their cause of meriment,
That us, late dead, has made againe alive:
But were it not too painfull to repeat
The passed fortunes, which to thee befell
In thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,
Now at thy leisure them to us to tell.'

To whom the shepheard gently answered
thus;

Hobbin, thou temptest me to that I covet:
For of good passed newly to discus,
By dubble usurie doth twise renew it.
And since I saw that Angels blessed eie,

Her worlds bright sun, her heavens fairest light, As water doth within his bancks appeare.'
My mind, full of my thoughts satietie,
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling have in any earthly pleasure,
But in remembrance of that glorious bright,
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threa-
[awake;
Wake then, my pipe; my sleepie Muse,
Till I have told her praises lasting long:
Hobbin desires, thou maist it not forsake;-
Harke then, ye jolly shepheards, to my song.'
With that they all gan throng about him

'Of fellowship (said then that bony Boy)
Record to us that lovely lay againe: [annoy,
The staie whereof shall nought these eares
Who all that Colin makes do covet faine.'

sure.

neare,

With hungrie eares to heare his harmonie: The whiles their flocks, devoyd of dangers feare, Did round about them feed at libertie.

One day (quoth he) I sat (as was my trade) Under the foote of Mole, that mountaine hore, Keeping my sheepe amongst the cooly shade Of the greene alders by the Mullaes shore; There a straunge shepheard chaunst to find me out,

Whether allured with my pipes delight,
Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about,
Or thither led by chaunce, I know not right:
Whom when I asked from what place he came,
And how he hight, himselfe he did ycleepe
The Shepheard of the Ocean by name,
And said he cane far from the main-sea deepe,
He, sitting me beside in that same shade,
Provoked me to plaie some pleasant fit;
And, when he heard the musicke which I made,
He found himselfe full greatly pleasd at it:
Yet, æmuling my pipe, he tooke in hond
My pipe, before that æmuled of many,
And plaid thereon; (for well that skill he cond;)
Himselfe as skilfull in that art as any.
He pip'd, I sung; and, when he sung, I piped;
By chaunge of turnes, each making other mery;
Neither envying other, nor envied,
So piped we, until we both were weary.'

There interrupting him, a bonie swaine,
That Cuddy hight, him thus atweene bespake:
And, should it not thy readie course restraine,
I would request thee, Colin, for my sake,
To tell what thou didst sing, when he did
plaie;

For well I weene it worth recounting was, Whether it were some hymne, or morall laie, Or carol made to praise thy loved lasse.'

'Nor of my love, nor of my lasse (quoth he,) I then did sing, as then occasion fell: For love had me forlorne, forlorne of me, That made me in that desart chose to dwell. But of my river Bregogs love I soong, Which to the shiny Mulla he did beare, And yet doth beare, and ever will, so long

'Heare then (quoth he) the tenor of my tale, In sort as I it to that shepheard told: No leasing new, nor Grandams fable stale, But auncient truth confirm'd with credence old. 'Old father Mole, (Mole hight that mountain gray

charge,

That walls the Northside of Armulla dale)
He had a daughter fresh as floure of May,
Which gave that name unto that pleasant vale;
Mulla, the daughter of old Mole, so hight
The Nimph, which of that water course has
[right
That, springing out of Mole, doth run downe
To Buttevant, where, spreading forth at large,
It giveth name unto that auncient Cittie,
Which Kilnemuliah cleped is of old; [pittie
Whose ragged ruines breed great ruth and
To travailers, which it from far behold.
Full faine she lov'd, and was belov'd full faine
Of her owne brother river, Bregog hight,
So hight because of this deceitfull traine,
Which he with Mulla wrought to win delight.
But her old sire more carefull of her good,
And meaning her much better to preferre,
Did thinke to match her with the neighbour
flood,

Which Allo hight, Broad-water called farre ;
And wrought so well with his continuall paine,
That he that river for his daughter wonne :
The dowre agreed, the day assigned plaine,
The place appointed where it should be doone.
Nath-lesse the Nymph her former liking held;
For love will not be drawne, but must be
ledde;

And Bregog did so well her fancie weld, That her good will he got her first to wedde. But for her father, sitting still on hie,

Did warily still watch which way she went,
And eke from far observ'd, with jealous eie,
Which way his course the wanton Bregog
bent;

Him to deceive, for all his watchfull ward,
The wily lover did devise this slight:
First into many parts his streame he shar'd,
That, whilest the one was watcht, the other
might

Passe unespide to meete her by the way;
And then, besides, those little streames so

broken

He under ground so closely did convay,
That of their passage doth appeare no token,
Till they into the Mullaes water slide.
So secretly did he his love enjoy

Yet ot so secr t, but it was descride,
And told her father by a shepheards boy,
Who, wondrous wroth, for that so foule de-
spight,

In great avenge did roll downe from his hill
Huge mightie stones, the which encomber
might

His passage, and his water-courses spill.
So of a River, which he was of old,
He none was made, but scattred all to nought;
And, lost emong those rocks into him rold,
Did lose his naine: so deare his love he bought.'
Which having said, him Thestylis bespake;
Now by my life this was a mery lay,
Worthie of Colin selfe, that did it make.
But read now eke, of friendship I thee pray,
What dittie did that other shepheard sing:
For I do covet most the same to heare,
As men use most to covet forreine thing.'
That shall I eke (quoth he) to you declare:
His song was all a lamentable lay
Of great unkindnesse, and of usage hard,
Of Cynthia the Ladie of the Sea,
Which from her presence faultlesse him debard.
And ever and anon, with singults rife,
He cryed out, to make his undersong;
Ah! my loves queene, and goddesse of my life.
Who shall me pittie, when thou doest me
wrong?'

So to the sea we came; the sea, that is
A world of waters heaped up on hie,
Rolling like mountaines in wide wildernesse,
Horrible, hideous, roaring with hoarse crie.'
And is the sea (quoth Coridon) so fearfull?'
'Fearful much more (quoth he) then hart
can fear:
[gaping direfull
Thousand wyld beasts with deep mouthes
Therin stil wait poore passengers to teare.
Who life doth loath, and longs death to behold,
Before he die, alreadie dead with feare, [cold,
And yet would live with heart halfe stonie
Let him to sea, and he shall see it there.
And yet as ghastly dreadfull, as it seemes,
Bold men, presuming life for gaine to sell,
Dare tempt that gulf, and in those wandring

stremes

[hell.

Seek waies unknowne, waies leading down to
For, as we stood there waiting on the strond,
Behold! an huge great vessell to us came,
Dauncing upon the waters back to lond,
As if it scornd the daunger of the same;
Yet was it but a wooden frame and fraile,
Glewed togither with some subtile matter.
Yet had it armes and wings, and head and
taile,

ster was,

And life to move it selfe upon the water. Strange thing! how bold and swift the mon[raine, Then gan a gentle bonylasse to speake, That neither car'd for wynd, nor hail, nor That Marin hight; Right well be sure did Nor swelling waves, but thorough them did plaine, That could great Cynthiaes sore displeasure So proudly, that she made them roare againe. And move to take him to her grace againe. The same aboord us gently did receave,

But tell on further, Colin, as befell

[breake,

passe

And without harme us farre away did beare, Twixt him and thee, that thee did hence dis- So farre that land, our mother, us did leave, suade.' [well, And nought but sea and heaven to us appeare. When thus our pipes we both had wearied Then hartlesse quite, and full of inward feare, (Quoth he) and each an end of singing made That shepheard I besought to me to tell, He gan to cast great lyking to my lore, Under what skie, or in what world we were, And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot, In which I saw no living people dwell. That banisht had my selfe, like wight forlore, Who, me recomforting all that he might, Into that waste, where I was quite forgot. Told me that that same was the Regiment The which to leave, thenceforth he counseld Of a great shepheardesse, that Cynthia hight, [full His liege, his Ladie, and his lifes Regent.— Unmeet for man, in whom was ought regard-| And wend with him, his Cynthia to see; Whose grace was great, and bounty most rewardfull.

mee,

Besides her peerlesse skill in making well,
And all the ornaments of wondrous wit,
Such as all womankynd did far excell;
Such as the world admyr'd, and praised it:
So what with hope of good, and hate of ill,
He me perswaded forth with him to fare.
Nought tooke I with me, but mine oaten quill:
Small needments else need shepheard to pre-
pare.

If then (quoth I) a shepheardesse she bee, Where be the flockes and heards, which she doth keep?

And where may I the hills and pastures see,
On which she useth for to feed her sheepe?'

These be the hills (quoth he) the surges
hic,

On which faire Cynthia her heards doth feed:
Her heards be thousand fishes with their frie,
Which in the bosome of the billowes breed.
Of them the shepheard which hath charge in
chief,

Is Triton, blowing loud his wreathed horne:

Her worlds bright sun, her heavens fairest light,
My mind, full of my thoughts satietie,
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling have in any earthly pleasure,
But in remembrance of that glorious bright,
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threa-
[awake;
Wake then, my pipe; my sleepie Muse,
Till I have told her praises lasting long:
Hobbin desires, thou maist it not forsake;-
Harke then, ye jolly shepheards, to my song.'
With that they all gan throng about him

sure.

neare,

With hungrie eares to heare his harmonie: The whiles their flocks, devoyd of dangers feare, Did round about them feed at libertie.

Whether allured with my pipes delight,
Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about,
Or thither led by chaunce, I know not right:
Whom when I asked from what place he came,
And how he hight, himselfe he did ycleepe
The Shepheard of the Ocean by name,
And said he came far from the main-sea deepe,
He, sitting me beside in that same shade,
Provoked me to plaie some pleasant fit;
And, when he heard the musicke which I made,
He found himselfe full greatly pleasd at it:
Yet, æmuling my pipe, he tooke in hond
My pipe, before that æmuled of many,
And plaid thereon; (for well that skill he cond;)
Himselfe as skilfull in that art as any.
He pip'd, I sung; and, when he sung, I piped;
By chaunge of turnes, each making other mery;
Neither envying other, nor envied,
So piped we, until we both were weary.'

For well I weene it worth recounting was, Whether it were some hymne, or morall laie, Or carol made to praise thy loved lasse.'

Nor of my love, nor of my lasse (quoth he,) I then did sing, as then occasion fell: For love had me forlorne, forlorne of me, That made me in that desart chose to dwell. But of my river Bregogs love I soong, Which to the shiny Mulla he did beare, And yet doth beare, and ever will, so long

As water doth within his bancks appeare.'
'Of fellowship (said then that bony Boy)
Record to us that lovely lay againe: [annoy,
The staie whereof shall nought these eares
Who all that Colin makes do covet faine.'

That walls the Northside of Armulla dale)
He had a daughter fresh as floure of May,
Which gave that name unto that pleasant vale;
Mulla, the daughter of old Mole, so hight
The Nimph. which of that water course has
charge,
[right

That, springing out of Mole, doth run downe
To Buttevant, where, spreading forth at large,
It giveth name unto that auncient Cittie,
Which Kilnemullah cleped is of old; [pittie
Whose ragged ruines breed great ruth and
To travailers, which it from far behold.
Full faine she lov'd, and was belov'd full faine
Of her owne brother river, Bregog hight,
So hight because of this deceitfull traine,
Which he with Mulla wrought to win delight.
But her old sire more carefull of her good,
And meaning her much better to preferre,
Did thinke to match her with the neighbour
flood,

And Bregog did so well her fancie weld,
That her good will he got her first to wedde.
But for her father, sitting still on hie,
Did warily still watch which way she went,
And eke from far observ'd, with jealous eie,
Which way his course the wanton Bregog
bent;

Him to deceive, for all his watchfull ward,
The wily lover did devise this slight:
First into many parts his streame he shar'd,
That, whilest the one was watcht, the other
might

Passe unespide to meete her by the way;
And then, besides, those little streames so

broken

He under ground so closely did convay,
That of their passage doth appeare no token,
Till they into the Mullaes water slide.
So secretly did he his love enjoy

Yet ot so secr t, but it was descride,
And told her father by a shepheards boy,
Who, wondrous wroth, for that so foule de-
spight,

In great avenge did roll downe from his hill
Huge mightie stones, the which encomber
might

His passage, and his water-courses spill.
So of a River, which he was of old,

stremes

[hell.
Seek waies unknowne, waies leading down to
For, as we stood there waiting on the strond,
Behold! an huge great vessell to us came,
Dauncing upon the waters back to lond,
As if it scornd the daunger of the same;
Yet was it but a wooden frame and fraile,
Glewed togither with some subtile matter.
Yet had it armes and wings, and head and
taile,

He none was made, but scattred all to nought;
And, lost emong those rocks into him rold,
Did lose his name: so deare his love he bought.'
Which having said, him Thestylis bespake;
'Now by my life this was a mery lay,
Worthie of Colin selfe, that did it make.
But read now eke, of friendship I thee pray,
What dittie did that other shepheard sing:
For I do covet most the same to heare,
As men use most to covet forreine thing.'
That shall I eke (quoth he) to you declare:
His song was all a lamentable lay
Of great unkindnesse, and of usage hard,
Of Cynthia the Ladie of the Sea,
Which from her presence faultlesse him debard.
And ever and anon, with singults rife,
He cryed out, to make his undersong;
Ah! my loves queene, and goddesse of my life. And life to move it selfe upon the water.
Who shall me pittie, when thou doest me Strange thing! how bold and swift the mon-
wrong?'
ster was,
[raine,
Then gan a gentle bonylasse to speake, That neither car'd for wynd, nor hail, nor
That Marin hight; Right well be sure did Nor swelling waves, but thorough them did
plaine,
passe
That could great Cynthiaes sore displeasure So proudly, that she made them roare againe.
And move to take him to her grace againe. The same aboord us gently did receave,
But tell on further, Colin, as befell

[breake,

And without harme us farre away did beare,

Twixt him and thee, that thee did hence dis-So farre that land, our mother, us did leave, suade.' [well, And nought but sea and heaven to us appeare. 6 When thus our pipes we both had wearied Then hartlesse quite, and full of inward feare, (Quoth he) and each an end of singing made That shepheard I besought to me to tell, He gan to cast great lyking to my lore, Under what skie, or in what world we were, And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot, In which I saw no living people dwell. That banisht had my selfe, like wight forlore, Who, me recomforting all that he might, Into that waste, where I was quite forgot. Told me that that same was the Regiment The which to leave, thenceforth he counseld Of a great shepheardesse, that Cynthia hight, [full His liege, his Ladie, and his lifes Regent.Unmeet for man, in whom was ought regard-| And wend with him, his Cynthia to see; Whose grace was great, and bounty most rewardfull.

mee,

pare.

If then (quoth I) a shepheardesse she bee, Where be the flockes and heards, which she doth keep?

And where may I the hills and pastures see,
On which she useth for to feed her sheepe?'

These be the hills (quoth he) the surges
hic,

On which faire Cynthia her heards doth feed:
Her heards be thousand fishes with their frie,
Which in the bosome of the billowes breed.
Of them the shepheard which hath charge in
chief,

Is Triton, blowing loud his wreathed horne:

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